


good, bad, neutral?

by kinneyb



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-05-19 06:41:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19351552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: Aziraphale is the new kid in town, who's quickly befriended by Anathema and Newton. They only have one piece of advice: avoid bad boy slash delinquent, Crowley, at all costs. He tries to abide by their advice, truly.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ★ please follow me on twitter @ queermight & check out my pinned tweet! ★
> 
> also yeah... who doesnt love a cliche high school au mwah also it's modern-ish time duh

Aziraphale is barely halfway through his first day of school when Anathema befriends him. He's surprised, mostly because he's not used to people approaching him first. That's usually his thing. Also, she's pretty. All caramel skin and full lips. People like her bullied people like him at his old school.

"Hi," she greets, cheery but not overbearing.

Aziraphale nods once. "Hi?" he greets back.

She doesn't falter, just opens her lunch and spread everything out in front of her. "You're the new kid," she says. It isn't a question. "I'm Anathema," she says, beaming up at him. "I'm the self-proclaimed welcoming committee, if you will."

"Oh." He smiles lightly, still a bit on edge. But she seems genuinely nice; warmth pours off her. "Right," he continues, clearing his throat. "I'm Aziraphale!"

Anathema nods and hums thoughtfully. "Can I call you Azira?" she asks, tapping her hands on the table top. "Most of my friends call me Ana, by the way."

Aziraphale has never had a nickname before, but he nods anyway.

"If you want," she says, smiling brightly, "you can sit with me and my friend, Newton, tomorrow."

Aziraphale chews slowly. "Sure," he replies eventually, a smile blooming across his face, "I think that sounds wonderful."

++

Newton isn't a lot like Anathema. Where Anathema is beautiful and smart and all charm, Newton is... nice. Aziraphale likes him well enough; they talk a lot about movies and books and other nerdy things. Anathema just watches fondly as she eats her food.

"So why'd you move here?" Newton asks through a mouthful of pizza. Anathema rolls her eyes.

They've been spending lunch together everyday for almost two weeks now. Aziraphale is almost embarrassed to admit he thinks this might be the first time he's ever truly had friends.

He smiles sheepishly. "There was this incident with a fire..." he tries to play it off as casual, but, well, "and our house." Anathema gasps lightly and kicks Newton under the table with her boot, glaring at him. But Aziraphale just laughs. "It's fine - no one was hurt," he assures them. "We just decided it was a sign to start over."

"That's nice," Newton says even as he's leaning down and rubbing at his leg.

Anathema reaches across the table and touches his hand softly. "I hate you had to go through that," she says with a frown, "but I'm glad it led you here, and we got to meet you."

He feels the same way.

++

He's been at the school for a month before he learns of the infamous delinquent; Crowley. He's only been able to avoid him so far - Newton says - because he was expelled for a while after beating up another student.

"He wasn't completely in the wrong," Anathema says, a conflicted look on her face. "He had just used a homophobic slur, and well, before we knew it Crowley had punched him so hard a few of his teeth went flying."

Newton looks up with wide eyes. "It was awesome," he says, hushed.

"Ohhkay." Anathema elbows him roughly. "Anyway, he's not entirely terrible is my point. But..."

Newton shrugs, swallowing audibly. Aziraphale is always surprised - maybe a little impressed - by Newton's ability to barely chew his food and not choke. "He's still a firecracker."

"That's," Anathema smiles lightly, patting Newton on the back approvingly, "a very good way to put it, thank you, Newton."

He beams at the praise.

"Is this your way of letting me know I should avoid him?" Aziraphale asks with a hint of amusement.

Anathema looks up and sighs in relief. "Yeah, basically. I'm not like - I'm not the type to tell you what to do." She pauses, pursing her lips. "Okay, maybe, but only because I truly think it's the right thing to do."

Aziraphale grins. "Okay," he agrees easily. Because it's not like he wanted trouble, anyway.

"Really?" she asks, but quickly recovers. "Great. Now..." Reaching inside her lunch bag, she pulls out a bag of apple slices. Newton stares at them openly. "Who wants to swap?"

Newton whines. "You waited until I was done on purpose, didn't you?"

She shrugs, batting her eyelashes innocently. Aziraphale laughs and pushes his chips across the table to her.

++

"De - detention?" Aziraphale asks, eyes wide. "But I - "

Their teacher, Mr. Gabriel, never cared for excuses and this was no exception. "You were late," he replies blandly, turning back to his papers. "Detention. After class. Now sit."

Aziraphale ducks his head and scurries to his desk. Anathema waits until the teacher is talking again to whisper.

"Shit, I'm sorry. It's my fault. I asked you to grab me my - "

"No," he interrupts quietly, sliding her book to her. "It's fine. I can handle a little detention." Even if he's never had detention before a day in his life. It can't be that bad, right?

She just smiles softly. "Thanks, Azira. A piece of advice: just keep to yourself."

He nods once. That sounds easy enough.

++

Aziraphale isn't sure if he's relieved or worried there's only one other person in detention with him. He picks a chair at the front of the room and pulls out a book. He can't really focus, but he pretends to be reading anyway.

But, then, "hey."

Aziraphale doesn't reply, just squints at the words on the page in front of him. Maybe the other guy would give up if he ignored him long enough.

"Dude," the other guy sighs loudly. "I just have a question."

Aziraphale blinks slowly. He remembers Anathema's advice, repeats the words in his mind: keep to yourself, you big idiot. But if it's just an innocent question... Turning, he glances at the guy sitting in the back row. As soon as they make eye contact, the guy grins toothily. He gets a bad feeling, but asks anyway. "What is it?"

"You're the new guy, right?" he asks, tilting his head curiously.

Aziraphale nods. "Um. Yes?" he answers tentatively, "and you are?"

The guy lifts a hand, waving. "The name is Crowley."

"Oh." _Shit_. Aziraphale quickly turns away, flipping to the next page in his book.

"Let me guess," the guy - Crowley - continues dryly, "you've heard of me?"

Aziraphale bites his bottom lip. He stares at the words, but they're not even making sense anymore. Anathema warned him precisely against not only conversing with people in detention, but Crowley specifically, and he's already fucked up both of those. At once.

"Fine," Crowley replies after a long moment.

Aziraphale finally peeks, and lets out a sigh of relief when Crowley looks to be napping, sprawled across his desk. He checks the clock and sighs lightly. Okay, just thirty more minutes. He can totally do this.


	2. Chapter 2

When Aziraphale checks the clock again, there’s only ten minutes left. He breathes a sigh of relief and closes his book, stuffing it in his backpack.

Since their interaction, Crowley hasn’t said another word. Aziraphale is grateful for that because frankly he’s not good at ignoring people when they’re actively vying for his attention.

It’s when the other boy yawns loudly that he even spares him a glance, and oh.

He’s staring right at him. Because that’s Aziraphale’s luck, isn’t it?

He promptly looks away and stares at the clock, drumming his fingers on the smooth surface of his desk.

“You’ve befriended Anathema, huh?”

_Shit._

Aziraphale squints at the clock.

“I used to be her friend, too, you know.” Crowley doesn’t seem to care if he gets a reply or not. “Newton, too, but he’s kind of…” He hums, doesn’t really elaborate.

Aziraphale almost hates that he knows what he means. Anathema has a shining personality and presence. Newton is nice, but. He’s kind of just.. _there_.

Aziraphale keeps quiet, watching the seconds tick by on the clock.

“I got into a fight as a freshman and the rest is history. Anathema is nice, but she’s a good girl. Didn’t care why I punched the guy.”

Aziraphale purses his lips. Don't, don't, _don't_ \--

"She's right," he says, anyway. Because his mouth hates him, apparently.

Crowley lets out a huff of a laugh. "You're one of those people, too?"

Turning around in his chair, he nods. Of all things, this he's confident of. "Violence is never the answer."

"Jesus fuck," Crowley drawls, looking away. "If you truly believe that, you're a privileged little shit."

Aziraphale gasps lightly. "That's not - " but then the door opens and Mr. Gabriel glances between them. "Detention is over," he announces, "you can go." He smiles at Aziraphale tightly. "Don't be late," he chides before glancing at Crowley. He sighs heavily and slumps over to his desk. "Just don't knock out anyone else's teeth, okay?"

"That depends entirely on how everyone else behaves," Crowley replies breezily, slipping from the classroom quickly.

Aziraphale just sighs.

++

"So." He pokes at his food, not really hungry. "Crowley was in detention with me," he continues, barely above a whisper.

Newton gasps dramatically, and Anathema elbows him in the side, rolling her eyes. "Are you okay?" she asks.

"He wasn't... that bad," he answers, peeking up at them. "And, uh... he said you guys used to be friends?"

Anathema nods once. "Oh." She gets a weird look on her face and sighs, shoulders slumping. "Okay, I maybe didn't tell you the whole story," she says apologetically. "We used to be, like, the three musketeers, right?"

Aziraphale nods, listening intently.

"But then one day Crowley punched my boyfriend in the face," Anathema frowns. "I asked him what he was thinking, but." She shrugs. "He would never tell me, and we kind of drifted after that."

Newton straightens up. "And after that, he started getting in trouble a lot."

"Oh." Aziraphale bites his lip. "So... doesn't it kind of seem like you guys were his anchor, maybe?"

Anathema sniffs. "Doesn't matter," she grumbles as she takes a bite of her sandwich. "He forfeited that right a long time ago."

++

The thing with Crowley was, he never showed up for classes. Like ever.

It's truly bad luck the first time he shows up in, like, a week, there's a partner project and Mr. Gabriel is evil. Truly the Antichrist, because he seems to get a sick joy from pairing them up.

All the students start to whisper, mumbling stuff about Crowley this and Aziraphale that. One even shakes his head sadly at him. He frowns at him.

Because okay, Crowley had problems, but he was still just a normal person, right?

"Fate brings up back together," Crowley drawls as he plops in the desk to Aziraphale's left. One look, and he notices he doesn't have any notebooks or pencils.

He sighs and pulls out an extra notebook and pencil, placing them in front of Crowley. "It does not," he replies. "Mr. Gabriel just enjoys torturing his students."

Crowley raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. He smiles ruefully. "You've been here long enough to hear the rumors of great ol' Gabby, huh?"

Aziraphale stares at him. "What did you just say to me?"

Grinning, Crowley points at Mr. Gabriel when he's not looking. "Fitting for a monster, right? Gabriel. Crabby." He wiggles his fingers for flair. " _Gabby_."

Aziraphale really doesn't want to laugh, but he barks out a laugh anyway, ducking his head when Mr. Gabriel quickly turns on his heels. When he finally calms down, Mr. Gabriel is no longer looking but Crowley is grinning like a shark.

++

The project is simple enough, and Aziraphale assures himself - and Anathema and Newton - that it will be over before they know it. He doesn't even think they'll need to spend any extra time out of school hours working on it.

"Just - " Anathema chews on her bottom lip. "Be careful, okay?"

He smiles sweetly and trades her apple slices for his chips. "I'll be fine, Ana." He can handle one rowdy delinquent. Probably.

++

"You're smart," Crowley comments offhandedly, leaning back in his chair. Mr. Gabriel is pacing the room, offering help no one wants. 

Aziraphale looks up, blinking. He stops writing, taps his pencil against the page. "Thanks?" he replies, unsure.

"Sorry you have to be paired with me," he continues, letting his chair fall back to the floor.

Aziraphale is, well, surprised to hear that honestly. He shifts in his seat. "What? Why?"

"I quite literally have the worst grades in this class," Crowley replies easily. "Or any class, for that matter."

Aziraphale nods once. "Oh." He nods again. "Thank you?"

"Oh, also, I don't peg you as the attention seeking type?" he hums, a question.

"Uh..." Fair enough; he really isn't. "No. I don't think so. Again... why?" he asks, furrowing his brows.

Crowley tilts his head, smiling a bit. "You're not that oblivious, are you?" Aziraphale just stares, and he laughs lightly. "Since you've been paired with me, everyone's been talking about you. They're worried for you, dear child," he says with a hum. "Or they're worried you might join me," he wiggles his fingers, "in my evil ways."

Aziraphale purses his lips. "I would never," he replies, closing his notebook. They'd done enough work for the day.

"Oh, I know," Crowley grins. "But _they_ don't."

Aziraphale nods, leaning on his desk. "Do you want to have bad grades?"

Crowley blinks once. "What?" he asks through a laugh.

"Do you _want_ to have bad grades?" he repeats, tilting his head curiously. "Or do you wish your grades were better?"

Crowley laughs again, disbelieving. "I mean... I wouldn't be mad if they were higher. Sure."

"I can help you," Aziraphale offers before he can think better of it. He clears his throat. Thinks of Anathema and Newton briefly before pushing the thought away. "I - if you want."

Crowley shrugs. "Okay."

Aziraphale nods slowly. "Cool." Anathema was going to be _so_ mad at him.


	3. Chapter 3

"You're - you're _tutoring_ him?" Anathema was, predictably, very upset.

Aziraphale slumps in his seat and shrugs. "I'm sorry. He just - I like helping people, and - and he doesn't want bad grades."

"Really?" she shoots back, raising an eyebrow. "Because it's not like he puts in a lot of effort. He barely even shows up for classes."

Aziraphale knows she has a point, but. Still, maybe he had a reason for that. "I'm sorry," he repeats, softer.

Shaking her head, she bites into her piece of pizza aggressively. "It's fine," she says finally, sighing. "I just... I don't think getting involved with him is a good idea, Azira."

Newton glances between them. "We - we just don't want you getting hurt!"

"I know," he replies, smiling lightly. "And I really do appreciate your concern."

Anathema smiles back. "Wanna trade?"

He slides his chips across the table and gets a bag of apple slices in return. Any normal person would probably just wonder why they didn't bring chips or apple slices for themselves, but... where was the fun in that?

++

"We could study at your place next time," Aziraphale says offhandedly. 

Crowley sniffs loudly. "I'm good, thanks."

Aziraphale looks up, squinting. It's been two weeks since their arrangement started and every day so far they've been going to Aziraphale's house to study. It's nice, but...

"Why not?" he asks, looking back down.

Crowley's handwriting is messy and almost unreadable as he scribbles quickly. "Your place is nicer," he replies gruffly.

Aziraphale nods once. He's curious, but it's not like they're friends, right? So he doesn't push. Turning to a new page, he points at the first question at the top. Crowley stops scribbling and watches. He's a surprisingly good student, actually.

++

"I have a confession," Aziraphale says, chewing slowly.

Anathema is leaned over the table doing homework she forgot last night. "Hmm?" she hums in reply.

"Crowley is... kind of nice," he mutters, biting his bottom lip.

Newton makes a noise low in his throat, but doesn't say anything. He, too, is watching Anathema closely.

"I'm not gonna yell at you, Azira, for God's sake," she says, looking up. "I'm not your mom or something. I'm just - "

Aziraphale smile, interrupting her knowingly. "A friend looking out for me?"

She blinks. "Yeah," she agrees with a nod. "And you already know we used to be friends with him, right? We know he's not all insults and fists." She flips her homework over. "He can be quite _charming_ when he wants to be."

Aziraphale swallows audibly. "Yeah," he replies. Because it's kind of true, huh? "I... I was actually wondering - "

As if reading his mind, she looks up and narrows her eyes. "No."

He nods slowly. "I didn't even finish my question," he mumbles, shifting awkwardly.

"You were going to try and convince us to befriend him again," she deadpans. It isn't a question.

"Not... exactly," he replies. "Just... maybe we could invite him to eat lunch with us one day."

Anathema sighs loudly and gathers her stuff. "No, Azira," she says firmly, standing up. "I'll see you guys tomorrow, okay?"

He watches as she walks off, shoulders slumping.

"I'm not opposed to the idea," Newton says, barely above a whisper.

Aziraphale smiles tightly. "Thank you, Newton."

++

"I got you a present."

It's been three weeks since they started studying together. Aziraphale looks up and stares at Crowley as he pulls something out of his bag. "Uh... thank you?" he replies, unsure. "But why?"

Crowley smirks. "You said you wouldn't let me pay, right?"

He had said that, yes.

"So I decided to do this instead." Aziraphale can now see what he's pulled from his bag; a bundle of notebooks tied together with a red string. He places them down on the bed in front of the other boy. "Nice, huh?"

Aziraphale shifts and pulls them closer, untying the string. The front and backs of the notebooks are beautiful, honestly. They are a beautiful mix of pastel blues and purples, and as he runs his fingers over them he realizes they are textured, too. He looks up at Crowley and smiles. "Thank you. I do like my notebooks."

"I've noticed," he replies, eyeing the shelves in his room that are filled with nothing but used up notebooks.

Aziraphale almost blushes. "Oh. Right." Turning over one of the notebooks, he catches sight of the price and stiffens. He didn't even know they _made_ notebooks so expensive. "But you really didn't have to - I mean - "

"It's okay," he interrupts quickly. "I didn't pay that."

Aziraphale blinks once. He knows he shouldn't, but... he asks anyway. "Were... they on sale?" When he doesn't get an answer, his eyes widen. "Crowley," he says, "did you - did you _steal_ these?"

He still doesn't get an answer, and when he looks up Crowley almost appears guilty, unsure of himself.

"I - " Crowley begins, but he really doesn't want to hear it.

Looking away, he pushes the notebooks to the side and crosses his arms. "Just - just go, okay?"

He expects Crowley to stay and do something, but when he looks up again he's gone and the door is open. He ignores the sinking feeling in his gut.

++

"You were right about him," Aziraphale mutters, stabbing his fork into a piece of chicken and eyeing it. "Crowley is - is - " he cuts himself off with a huff, stuffing the chicken in his mouth.

Anathema smiles ruefully. "Did something happen?" she asks, glancing at Newton and back again.

He shrugs, chewing slowly. "He's just... a _bad_ influence." He sniffs. "For me, at least."

"I won't argue with facts," Anathema replies, passing her apple slices to Aziraphale. When he tries to give her his chips, she waves her hand back and forth in the air. "Keep them - " she tilts her head in the direction of the apple slices. "Consider them on the house," she smiles lightly.

Aziraphale nods. "Thank you, Ana." He spares a glance at Newton. "Both of you." 

"Of course, dude," Newton replies. "We've got your back."

His smile widens a bit. "Exactly," he says softly. "I _have_  the kind of friends I want already." 


	4. Chapter 4

Aziraphale gets the grade back on their project a few days after their fight (if it can even be _called_ that). He joins Anathema for lunch and shows her. “A perfect score,” he says, surprised himself.

“Wow,” she remarks, slurping her noodles. “That’s impressive. Mr. Gabriel almost never gives perfect scores.” She grabs a napkin and wraps her mouth. “You really _are_ smart, huh,” she teases, knocking their feet together under the table.

He visibly hesitates, and she narrows her eyes suspiciously.

“What?”

Aziraphale neatly folds the paper up and slips it in his pocket. “Crowley helped a lot. He’s - he’s smart, too,” he says with a (very fake) casual shrug.

“Is he?” she asks, but her expression makes it very clear she doesn’t want - or expect - a real answer.

He smiles sheepishly and they make their switch; apple slices for chips, no special treatment today.

“I - I should at least talk to him, right?” he asks halfway through lunch.

Anathema blinks at him. “You know what I’m going to say, so why are you even asking?” she sniffs. “Don’t.”

“But - “

She sighs loudly. “Azira, you said yourself he’s bad news. Stay _away_.”

Anathema is smart - a bit forgetful sometimes, but smart. He should listen to her, but... for some unfathomable reason he really, really doesn’t want to. “Where’s Newton?” he asks, changing the subject.

“He’s sick,” she says with a shrug.

He nods. “Oh. Okay. Maybe we should visit him after school?”

Anathema looks up at him and slowly smiles. “Sure.”

++

After school, they walk to Newton’s house; a quaint little thing he shares with just his mother. She answers the door and smiles brightly at them. “Come in, come in. He’s upstairs.”

Anathema heads for the stairs and Aziraphale follows her.

“I had no idea Newton had so many friends,” his mother remarks, pressing a hand to her chest. She looks wildly happy.

Anathema stops and turns. “Huh?”

That’s when they hear a thump followed by laughter from upstairs. Anathema turns away and continues. Aziraphale smiles politely at Newton’s mother before chasing after her.

When he reaches the top of the stairs, he sees her. She’s standing in the doorway to Newton’s room, an unreadable expression on her face. Aziraphale slowly stalks closer.

That’s when he sees it: Newton is curled up in his bed under a pile of blankets. Crowley is at the foot of the bed, a deck of cards scattered between them.

Aziraphale sees the way Newton’s face shifts the second he spots Anathema. He looks outright terrified of her.

“Ana - “ he starts, but she cuts him off.

“Newton, you’re a real fucking work of art,” she snarls, turning away and stomping to the stairs.

He scrambles out from under his covers. “Ana, wait!” he exclaims, scurrying after her.

Now that they were alone, Aziraphale had no idea what to do. He could hear Anathema and Newton fighting in the distance.

Looking away, he peeks at Crowley. He's not surprised that Crowley is staring back at him, really. He takes a sharp breath.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"I'm sorry," Crowley says at the same time.

For a long moment, neither of them say anything.

"You go first," Crowley mutters, shifting. The bed squeaks under his weight.

Aziraphale smiles nervously and sits in Newton's desk chair, tucking his hands in his lap. "I'm - I'm sorry for being so mean the other day. I... I don't agree with stealing," he admits, "but you were trying to repay me, and I do appreciate the thought."

"I... I don't steal for _fun_ ," Crowley replies quietly, picking at a loose thread hanging from his jeans.

Aziraphale softens and pulls their grade from his pocket. "Have you seen this?" he asks as he unfolds the paper and places it in front of Crowley on the bed.

"Oh." Crowley laughs almost sheepishly. "I think that might be my first perfect score... ever."

Aziraphale feels oddly proud as he takes the paper back and puts it away.

"Thank you," he says, looking almost shy.

Aziraphale's stomach does flips. It's a new, exciting feeling that makes him feel like he could fly. He doesn't question it. "Of course."

"Uh..." Crowley tilts his head back and forth like he's thinking. "Does this mean we can continue studying together?" he asks, almost hopeful.

He thinks of Anathema, but quickly shoves the thought away. "Okay," Aziraphale says.

Crowley glances at him, a surprisingly soft look on his face. "Okay," he parrots quietly. "How about... uh, how about we go to my place next time?" he suggests, scratching the back of his neck.

Aziraphale bites his bottom lip. "If you want."

"I do," Crowley says, looking away.

++

He doesn't tell Anathema or Newton about going to Crowley's house after school on Friday. Anathema had apparently forgiven Newton, but only after he assured her he wouldn't go behind her back again.

Aziraphale doesn't think it's fair - Newton is allowed to make his own decisions, have his own friends - but he doesn't question it. He doesn't question a lot of stuff recently. It's easier that way.

"Wanna go see a movie later?" Anathema asks, crunching loudly on a piece of candy.

Aziraphale looks around the cafeteria but he can't see Crowley. It's not surprising: he rarely eats in the cafeteria, anyway. "Um. I don't feel so good?" he says.

"Oh." Newton frowns. "Are you okay? Did catch my flu or whatever?"

He feels a bit bad for lying, but. "I - I think so," he stammers. "I just want go home and sleep."

Anathema nods, smiling brightly. "Tomorrow, maybe?"

He nods back. "Tomorrow."

++

Crowley had slipped him the directions earlier during class. On a torn up piece of paper, no less. Aziraphale smiles fondly as he follows them. He hasn't had a lot of free time to explore the town, really. He's only gone a few places, and he almost ends up getting lost when he finally sees a large, wooden sign.

_Rickwood_ , it says. The name scribbled at the top of the piece of paper.

_It's_... Aziraphale looks around at all the rundown houses, and shakes his head firmly. Continuing on, he glances at each house he passes. Crowley had said he'd be waiting for him in front of his house.

Nothing, nothing, then -

_There_. In front of a tiny, dirty trailer is Crowley, standing with his hands in his pockets. Aziraphale frowns, approaching him. He shoves the piece of paper in his own pocket. "Um," he greets lamely, unsure what to say.

He isn't sure what he'd been expecting, but this wasn't it.

Crowley sniffs loudly, turning away. "Follow me."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> conclusions are starting to happen baby!!   
> after this we're mostly working our way uphill

Aziraphale follows Crowley inside the trailer. The first room they enter is a living room, but... he doesn’t think it’s been used in a long time; there’s trash all over the floor and the couch is covered in dust. _Visible_ dust. He frowns, and follows Crowley down a short hall to a bedroom.

“Here we are,” he announces, spinning in a slow circle.

The room is small, insanely so, but clean. Aziraphale glances around, taking in every small detail he can. Like the posters on the walls (bands Aziraphale have never even heard of) and a bookshelf with mostly comics.

“It’s...” he begins.

Crowley smiles grimly. “Small?” he suggests, sitting in a chair that creaks terribly under his weight. “Disgusting? Embarrassing?”

Aziraphale bristles. “No,” he says. “It’s... _homey_.”

“That’s just the nice way of saying disgusting,” he replies breezily.

Frowning, he sits on a corner of Crowley’s bed. It’s lumpy and hard, nothing like his bed at home. “Do they know?”

“Who?” he asks, leaning back in his chair. “Anathema, and Newton?”

Aziraphale nods lightly.

“Kind of?” he answers, shrugging. He stares down at his hands. “Um, they know I’m not... well off, you could say, but I never let them come here.”

Aziraphale frowns and leans over. The room is small enough he can easily touch Crowley from his bed; he places a hand on his knee gently. “Why not?”

“Do you really have to ask?” he replies blandly. “It’s fucking - it’s _embarrassing_.”

He nods slowly. “But they were your friends, Crowley. The wouldn’t have - “

“You don’t know that,” he snaps, before quickly softening. “I’m sorry. It’s just... things aren’t that black and white, Aziraphale. People care about these kinds of things. They judge you, and I didn’t - I didn’t want that.”

Aziraphale sighs, pulling his hand back. “But you’re okay with showing me?”

Crowley looks away. “Yeah.”

There’s a long stretch of silence. “Why?” he asks finally. “Why am I different?”

“I don’t know,” he replies. “You just are. I - I feel like you’re _good_. Like really good.” Crowley glances at him almost shyly. “Like you really won’t let this - “ he gestures around “ - change your opinion of me.”

Aziraphale smiles slowly. “I won’t,” he confirms.

Crowley smiles back, just a little. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he laughs, biting his lip. “Also, this might come as a shock but... I actually really like comic books.”

Crowley blinks once. “Really?” he jumps up. “Shit, okay, well. I - I can lend you some, if you want. There’s this one, um. I think you’d really like it.”

Aziraphale watches as he walks to his bookshelf and digs through his collection, a warmth spreading in his chest.

He returns and places a stack of comic books on the bed. Aziraphale glances at the first cover, and smiles warmly.

“It’s about a demon and angel.” Crowley sits on the bed, thumbing through the first few pages. “They become friends, and help save the world.” He looks up at Aziraphale. “I really like it.”

Aziraphale takes the first book off the top of the stack. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Crowley shrugs. “I just think... it’s a good message. That it doesn’t matter who you are or where you come from, you can still be friends.”

Aziraphale smiles wider. “Yeah,” he agrees. “I think so, too.”

++

Aziraphale stares at Crowley, stern but soft. "Come on," he says, nudging him with his shoulder. "It's going to be fine." _Probably_ , he adds mentally.

"I really don't think this is a good idea," he mutters. "But okay, lead the way."

Aziraphale nods and turns away, walking to their usual table. Anathema and Newton are both already there, deep in a conversation. They only look up when Aziraphale sits. Crowley lingers, still standing.

It doesn't take even three seconds before Anathema's eyes fall on Crowley, cold and calculating. "What the fuck is _he_ doing here?"

"I invited him," Aziraphale replies, patting the spot beside him. "Come on, sit."

Crowley slowly lowers himself into the chair. "Uh. Hi, Anathema. Newton." He nods at them both.

Newton gives a little wave, looking nervous.

"Fuck off," Anathema says, narrowing her eyes. "Aziraphale might want you here, but he doesn't speak for the two of us." She jerks her head in Newton's direction.

Aziraphale looks at Newton. "Do you want Crowley to leave?" he asks.

Pouting, Anathema crosses her arms but doesn't say anything. Just watches Newton as they all wait for an answer. He looks down and shrugs jerkily. "No?" he squeaks.

"Okay," Aziraphale glances at Crowley, who looks equal parts surprised and happy. He looks at Anathema next, soft and understanding. "I know you guys have had your problems, but. He's really trying now, Ana. The least you can do is - "

She huffs, standing up. "I don't _have_ to do anything," she barks before stomping off.

The following silence is deafening. Aziraphale looks at Crowley - at the deep frown set in his features. "Hey," he says softly, touching his shoulder. "It's not your fault."

"I never wanted this to happen," Crowley replies, scrunching his face up. "I was just - I was - " he cuts himself off with a sigh. "I just want to be alone."

Aziraphale nods lightly, squeezing his shoulder. "You don't have to be, though," he replies. "You know that, right?"

"Yeah," he replies quietly, looking at Aziraphale with warm eyes. Then, Newton. "Thanks for that." He smiles tightly and stands up, taking his stuff with him.

Aziraphale watches as he leaves the cafeteria, head down. He had to fix this.

++

Aziraphale corners Anathema after school. Well, _corner_ is a strong word for gently grabbing her arm and pulling her to an isolated part of the hallway. "We need to talk," he says.

She stares at him, crossing her arms. "Yeah, we do," she says.

"I get it." Then, "actually, you know what?" he continues, shrugging. "I _don't_ get it. Crowley and your old boyfriend got into a fight, fine, but be honest - was that guy the love of your life?" Anathema doesn't need to answer; her frown answers for her. "Then, why can't you forgive Crowley for one stupid mistake?"

Anathema looks away, sniffing. For a long moment, she doesn't say anything. "I just - " she breathes in deeply through her nose. "He wasn't the love of my life, duh, but I did really like him, Azira. And Crowley knew that, but he still - "

"Have you tried asking him about it?"

Anathema shrugs weakly. "No?"

"Maybe you should," Aziraphale says, softer. "At lunch. Tomorrow. We can all try this again."

She peers at him. "I'm not promising anything," she says.

He nods, smiling lightly. "I know, but thank you for trying."

++

Lunch the following day was... awkward (to say the least). Anathema didn't throw a fit, but she also didn't follow Aziraphale's advice and ask Crowley about the fight.

"Okay," he says eventually, sighing. "Ana," he says, glancing at her. "Don't you have something you want to ask Crowley?" Crowley looks up at his name. Aziraphale can _feel_ his shoulders tensing, and he gently touches his arm. "It's okay," he tells him, barely above a whisper.

Anathema's nose twitches. She looks at Aziraphale as if having _do I have to?_

He smiles encouragingly.

"Fine," she grumbles, tossing her fork down. "Crowley," she says, a bit harsh. "Why did you punch my boyfriend?"

Crowley blinks once. "Why you asking about that _now?_ "

"Because!" she exclaims, "I've never forgiven you and I don't think I can until I know why." She takes a steadying breath. "You knew how much I liked him. He was my first real boyfriend, Crowley. Why would you do that to me?"

He licks his lips and looks away, patting his thighs a few times. "I can't say."

"Can't?" she repeats in disbelief.

Crowley squints. "Or, well... _won't_."

Aziraphale can feel the tension rising in the air. "Crowley," he says desperately. "This can all be fixed," maybe, "if you just tell her why you did it." Crowley slowly turns, looking at him. Aziraphale smiles softly. "I'm sure you had a good reason."

"I did," he says simply, "which is why I won't tell."

Anathema huffs. "God, I should've known," she hisses. "You are one selfish son of a bitch, Crowley!"

His head snaps around to look at her. "I'm protecting you," he barks, "just like I was when I punched that fucker in the face!"

"If you were protecting me," she says, slamming her hands down on the table as she stands up, "why are you so scared to tell me the truth?"

A few of the other students turn to stare at them.

Aziraphale wishes he could disappear. This was _so_ not going according to plan. Why was Crowley being so stubborn?

"Because," Crowley says, standing up, "I don't want to hurt you!"

She glares at him. "You don't get to make that decision," she says, poking him in the chest with her finger. " _I_ do. So tell me already. Or I swear we will never be friends again."

Aziraphale watches as - all at once - all the fight dissipates from Crowley's body. His shoulders slump. "Ana," he says, softly, quietly. "I really, really don't want to."

She shrugs, folding her arms over her chest. "I don't care. Tell me."

Crowley looks around then back at her again. He lowers his voice to a whisper. "When I entered the school that day, he was hanging with some guys. Footballs players, I think. I don't know; I was quickly blinded with rage." Crowley pauses, taking a short, sharp breath. "He - he was talking - _bragging_ \- about how... how he'd finally gotten you in the sack. That it wasn't _easy_ , but you were... _worth_ it."

He stops, and there's deafening silence.

"Ana," Crowley says, reaching for her. "I am so sorry. I shouldn't have reacted so carelessly, but - "

She pulls away before he can reach her, eyes stinging with tears. "I - I need to be alone."

Aziraphale watches as Anathema storms off, hugging her bag to her chest. Aziraphale jumps up to go after her, but Newton stops him. "I'll go check on her," he says.

"I shouldn't have..." Crowley starts, barely a whisper.

Aziraphale glances at him, at the expression on his face. He looks completely worn down. He gathers him in his arms and pets his hair. "You didn't do anything wrong," he says firmly. 


	6. Chapter 6

“Are you _sure_ this is a good idea?” Crowley asks, looking impossibly small as he paces the room, wringing his hands.

Aziraphale smiles softly from the bed, legs tucked underneath him. “You two need to talk. Preferably alone,” he admits, “but I know you’re nervous, so.”

“I’m sorry,” Crowley says.

Aziraphale shakes his head. “No need.” He perks up when he hears a knock at the door. “She’s here.” Crowley lingers. “Go,” he commands gently.

Grimacing, Crowley disappears from the room and when he returns Anathema is trailing behind him, looking equally as nervous. For once her hair is a mess and she's dressed down in a t-shirt and shorts.

“Azira,” she greets, smiling nervously.

He smiles back, sincere and soft. “Hi, Ana. How are you?”

She rocks back and forth on her feet. “Um. Okay, actually.” She glances at Crowley and back again. “Can we do this... alone?”

“Oh.” Aziraphale blinks once. He looks at Crowley, asking a silent question.

Crowley glances at Anathema and takes a deep, steadying breath. “It’s fine,” he says, looking back. His expression turns stupidly stubborn, and Aziraphale smiles wider. _That’s more like it._

He gets up from the bed and pauses near his two friends, giving them each a hug. “I’ll be in the living room,” he assures them before leaving.

++

 An hour later, the door opens.

Aziraphale watches as they both crowd out of the room. Crowley looks... _better_. He’s no longer fidgeting, at least. Anathema looks better, too, softer around the edges. She smiles and joins him on the couch.

“Thank you,” she says, hugging him tightly.

He blinks once. “For what?”

She hugs him tighter, whispering in his ear. “I - I don’t know if we ever would’ve talked if it wasn’t for you interfering,” she admits.

Aziraphale gently rubs her back. “I think you would have,” he says.

Anathema pulls back and nods. “I need to go, I think. That took longer than I thought it would,” she admits sheepishly. “But um. We can sit together at lunch tomorrow.” She glances at Crowley. “All of us.”

“Yes,” Crowley says, a bit too fast, like he’s afraid the offer will be retracted if he doesn’t answer as quickly as possible.

It’s impossibly endearing, Aziraphale thinks.

“Okay.” Anathema smiles and stands up. “Good.” She hugs Crowley; it’s a bit awkward, a bit stiff, but it’s progress.

Crowley clears his throat. “I’ve missed you,” he says, barely a whisper.

“I know,” Anathema says as she pulls away. “I missed you, too.”

With that, she steps back and adjusts her shirt. “Bye, guys,” she says. Aziraphale watches as she leaves, closing the door behind her.

For a long silent moment Aziraphale just watches Crowley. Finally, the other boy plops on the couch beside him. “Thank you,” he says.

Aziraphale smiles a bit. “For what?” he asks, almost teasing, as if he doesn’t know the answer.

Crowley just grins. “She’s right, Aziraphale. I’m not sure I would’ve ever had the guts to talk to her if it wasn’t for you.” He scoots closer and grabs Aziraphale’s hands, holding them both. “Thank you,” he repeats, an oddly serious look on his face.

Aziraphale bites back a grin. “You’re welcome,” he assures him. “But I don’t agree. You’re a wonderful person, Crowley,” he says. “You would’ve talked to her eventually - with or without me.”

“You’re - “ Crowley laughs. “You’re a fucking angel.”

Aziraphale blushes. “Hardly,” he mutters. There’s silence for a few minutes. “So.”

Crowley shifts, finally releasing Aziraphale’s hands. He misses the warmth. “My dad won’t be home tonight.” His dad is rarely home. Aziraphale never asks; he can tell Crowley doesn’t want to talk about it. “Want to... I don’t know - stay the night? Watch a movie?”

He sounds almost nervous, and Aziraphale thinks it’s kind of adorable.

“I would love that,” he answers.

++

Aziraphale falls asleep at some point during the movie, apparently, because when he wakes up the credits are playing and the room is mostly dark.

He blinks once. He can feel something on his shoulder; an abnormal weight.

He turns his head and his breath catches in his throat when he sees what's causing the weight; Crowley's head is on his shoulder, his auburn hair tickling the side of Aziraphale's neck.

He looks so... _peaceful_ when he's sleeping, almost angelic. For a long, quiet moment, he watches him as he sleeps.

Aziraphale realizes, suddenly, how much he wants _this_. To be with Crowley all the time, relaxing and enjoying each other's company.

His eyes flicker to Crowley's lips and he gulps. He knows, deep down, that this is different from the way he feels about Anathema, or Newton.

He isn't sure if he can have that, but he does know one thing: he can at least be Crowley's friend, and that will have to be enough.

He doesn't want to risk ruining things. And on top of that Crowley _just_ got his friends back; he deserved time to be happy and relish in that without having to worry about his newest friend's stupid feelings.

He takes a quiet breath. "Sleep well, my dear," he mutters before dozing off again, leaning his head against Crowley's.

Crowley wakes up next. He peeks at the window and the sun is just rising, casting a gentle glow over the living room.

He yawns quietly and quickly realizes the position he's - they're - in. They're practically _cuddling_ on the couch.

He slowly pulls away, smiling fondly when Aziraphale grumbles as he shifts, curling up. 

He watches Aziraphale for a moment; he's obviously dreaming. His eyebrows keep twitching, so do the corner of his mouths.

It's cute, and, then, " _Crowley_ ," he says, barely above a whisper. He freezes, waiting, but he doesn't say anything else. 

Crowley isn't sure if he's disappointed or relieved, because he wants to know what Aziraphale is dreaming, sure, but. He also doesn't want to get his hopes up.

He's known since the beginning he was developing feelings for the soft, sweet boy, but he knows better than to think he could ever like him back. He's  _Crowley_ for God's sake; local delinquent, lives in a dump, likes to talk with his fists. People like Aziraphale deserved _better_.

Frowning, he stands up and walks to the kitchen. He could at least be a good friend to him, he thinks triumphantly, as he starts breakfast.


	7. Chapter 7

"You... made breakfast?" Aziraphale asks, standing in the doorway to the kitchen with wide eyes.

Crowley clears his throat. "Uh, yeah." He sits in one of the chairs. "Is - is that a bad thing? I just thought - "

"No!" Aziraphale exclaims, rushing to one of the other chairs. He sits down and smiles softly. "I just didn't peg you as the cooking type?" he admits sheepishly, but the food looks - and smells - amazing.

Crowley grins. "There's still _a lot_ you don't know about me, Aziraphale," he says with a wink. He grabs the syrup and adds a concerning amount to his stack of pancakes.

"Is one of them that you have a sugar addiction?" he asks, raising both eyebrows.

"Rude," he mutters, but his grin widens as he pushes the syrup across the table to the other boy. "But fair."

Aziraphale feels, for the first time in a long time, like there's nothing on his shoulders. No worries, no weight. He eats happily; the food tastes amazing and the company is even better.

++

"But what if I say something to upset her again?" Crowley asks. "I have a tendency to do that, you know."

Aziraphale touches his arm softly. "You'll be fine," he assures him for the fifth or sixth time. "Just be yourself."

"That's _terrible_ advice, darling," he mutters.

They both reach the table after a couple minutes of walking; Anathema and Newton are already sitting, but neither of them have opened their lunches. Newton smiles, looking genuinely happy. "Hey, Crowley."

Aziraphale spots the way Crowley's shoulders slump at the greeting, tension draining. "Hi, Newton." Crowley licks his lips and looks at Anathema. "Hi, Anathema."

"Oh my God," she says with a wave of her hand. "Call me Ana."

Crowley smiles, a bit sheepish. "Okay," he replies, sitting down beside Aziraphale. Their legs brush; neither of them shift away.

For a few minutes they eat without saying anything. It's not an uncomfortable silence, really.

Then, "do you want my chips?" Crowley asks, staring at Anathema.

Aziraphale blinks once. _Oh_. Anathema looks at him, and he nods, smiling.

"Sure," she says, looking back. "Do you want my apple?"

Crowley nods slowly. "Yeah," he says, eyes soft. "I'd like that."

++

The next few days are easy. Crowley and Anathema aren't suddenly best pals again, but each day is better and that's enough for Aziraphale (and Newton).

One day, though, Anathema makes an admission. "I'm failing math," she sighs, frowning. Aziraphale knows it's bad because she hasn't touched her chips.

"I'm - I'm good at math," Newton pipes up.

She nods. "I know," she pats his shoulder. "So, you'll tutor me?"

He quickly nods.

"Cool," she turns away. "How about we have a study party together?"

Aziraphale blinks once. Right, they knew he had gone back to tutoring Crowley. "Oh," he laughs. "Um. Sure." He glances at Crowley. "Does that sound okay?"

Crowley grins. "Cool with me." He pauses, his grin faltering a bit. "Uh, how about we do it at my place?" he asks.

"Oh." Anathema looks at him. "Crowley, we don't have to - "

"It's fine," he says, interrupting her. He clears his throat. "How about after school on Friday?"

Once lunch is over, Aziraphale stops Crowley. He grabs one of his hands, squeezing lightly. "Are you sure about this?"

Crowley stares down at their hands, smiling softly. "Sure, it's - it's not a big deal. Ana has already seen it, anyway. And Newton is not the judgmental type," he continues, looking up. He smiles a bit wider. "But thanks for worrying about me."

"Of course," he replies without missing a beat. "I just don't want you to feel, like, you have to do this or something."

Crowley softly runs his thumb over the other boy's knuckles. "I don't," he assures him. "Now, come on, we're going to miss class if we don't hurry." His eyes sparkle. "And we _both_ know how much you hate being late."

Aziraphale nods. Crowley pulls his hand away, and he ignores how much he wishes they could hold hands in the hallway. It's a selfish want, he knows.

++

Friday night, they all show up at Crowley's trailer after school. Crowley opens the door and smiles, a bit sheepish. "Welcome to my humble abode," he jokes weakly.

"Hi, Crowley," Anathema greets, surprisingly soft.

Newton adjusts his backpack and glances around as they enter the trailer. "Nice place," he comments, but it's so obviously insincere no one says anything.

Crowley's bedroom is neater than the last time Aziraphale saw it; he suspects if he looks under the bed, he'll see where everything went. He smiles fondly at the thought and sits with the others, pulling out a few of his school books.

They talk about nothing in particular, just innocent small talk. Like everyone's plans for the weekend, the last movie they watched. Even the weather.

(Apparently, Anathema actually really loves talking about weather.)

"Tornadoes are cool, man," she says. "Terrible, but _cool_."

Nothing substantial is really said for the first thirty or so minutes, though. Aziraphale works with Crowley on his weakest subjects, and Newton helps Anathema with math.

Then, "hey, can I have something to drink?" Anathema asks.

Crowley looks up and blinks. "Oh, sure," he says, standing up. "Water?" Anathema nods, and he glances at Aziraphale, smiling softly. "I'll be right back."

Anathema clears her throat once he's gone, the door closing with a soft _click_. "Azira," she says.

When he looks up, she has an oddly serious look on her face. "Yes?" he squeaks.

"Do you have a crush on Crowley?" she asks without missing a beat.

The room is silent.

" _What?_ " he squeaks louder.

She purses her lips. "Because he totally has a crush on you," she remarks breezily.

Aziraphale blinks once. Twice, three times. "Ana," he laughs sharply. "No way," he mutters. "We're not like that." _Sadly_.

"Do you see the way he smiles at you?" she asks, a bit quieter.

Aziraphale gulps. "No?"

"He doesn't smile like that around anyone else." She glances at Newton. "Right, Newton?"

Aziraphale hopes he'll have his back, say _no way, Anathema,_ but he just nods quietly. "Oh." He licks his lips, looking at the door. "I really don't - I mean, I - I don't know."

"You should talk to him," she says, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Soon, preferably."

He nods dumbly. "I - okay."

The door opens again and Crowley walks in, balancing four cups of water. "I went ahead and grabbed some for everyone," he says.

Anathema takes one. "Thank you, Crowley," she says, weirdly polite.

He sits back in his spot and glances around curiously. "Uh, did something happen?"

" _No!_ " Aziraphale exclaims, fidgeting with his hands. "Just, um. Let's get back to work, okay?"

Crowley nods, smiling softly. "Sure."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did someone call for some............. ANGST

Aziraphale puts off talking to Crowley for a few days because, well, he really _does_ think Anathema is imagining things. Sure, they’re close and kind of handsy sometimes, but they’re really just friends.

It’s not until an entire week later that Anathema says something again; they’re all sitting in her bedroom, and Crowley is in the bathroom.

“Have you talked to him yet?” she asks as if the answer isn’t obvious, raising both eyebrows.

Aziraphale looks up, fidgeting with his hands. “No?”

“Why not?” she replies quickly.

He glances at the door and back again. “I really don’t think he likes me, Ana.”

She huffs. “I’ve known Crowley a lot longer, and I’m telling you there’s something different about you.”

“But what if you’re wrong?” he asks desperately. “I can’t ruin our friendship.”

Anathema hums thoughtfully, crossing her arms. “I’m not,” is all she says, confident as ever. “And besides...” she narrows her eyes, not unkindly. “Don’t you feel something for him, too?”

He freezes, taking a deep gulp of air. “Wh - _what?_ ” he squeaks.

“I might not know you as well,” she admits softly, “but I’m right, aren’t I?”

Aziraphale swallows thickly. "I - " The door opens, and he quickly cuts himself off. "Hi, Crowley!" he says, a bit too chipper.

Crowley sits down, eyes sparkling with amusement. "Hi, Aziraphale," he replies slowly, laughing softly. "What's up?"

"Oh." Aziraphale glances at Anathema and back again. He grins sheepishly. "Nothing."

Crowley nods. "You're hiding something," he teases, poking him in the leg with a finger. "And I _will_ find out what," he says, waggling his eyebrows.

He gulps.

++

"You should ask Aziraphale to spend the night with you," Anathema says.

Crowley peers at her curiously, zipping his bag. "Uh. I mean, sure?" he stands up straighter. "But what's your agenda?"

She shrugs, smiling innocently. "I think he wants to talk to you," she says, "but he's nervous."

"Oh." He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and back again. "Okay."

For a moment, they both stand there, not moving or saying anything. Eventually, Crowley swings his bag over one of his shoulders.

"Do you know what about?" he asks. He glances back at Newton and Aziraphale, both absorbed in an animated conversation. He watches as Newton says something that makes Aziraphale laugh. He gulps and looks back.

Anathema has an oddly soft look on her face as she touches his arm. "I don't think I should tell you _that_ ," she replies. "But I think it's important."

He nods once. "Well, thanks."

She bites her bottom lip. "Crowley?"

He looks at her, waiting.

"I know - I know we've had our differences and problems, and we can't just go back to the way we were overnight, but." Anathema smiles, sincere and soft. "I _do_ want you to be happy."

Crowley smiles, a bit sheepish. "Thanks?" he says. "I feel the same way."

++

Aziraphale says yes, because of course he does - he _loves_ spending time with Crowley.

"My, uh, dad left money for pizza," he mutters. "Wanna order death by carbs and watch a movie?"

Aziraphale grins lightly and nods. They grab a ton of pillows from Crowley's room and throw them on the couch, curling up comfortably. Crowley calls the local pizza place and orders one large pizza (with Aziraphale's favorite toppings).

After, he turns on the movie and sits back. Aziraphale smiles over at him softly and joins him. He gets dangerously close to resting his head on Crowley's shoulder, but neither of them say anything.

It's a scary movie, for once, and Aziraphale jumps barely twenty minutes in. Crowley laughs loudly, petting his hair.

"I didn't know you were a baby," he teases with sparkling eyes.

Aziraphale pouts.

After another ten minutes, there's a knock at the door and Crowley gets up and retrieves the pizza before returning.

The movie has reached a calm point when Crowley looks over, and pauses. "Hey, you've got - " he points at his own cheek.

Aziraphale blinks once. "Oh," he laughs sheepishly. "Thanks." But when he rubs at his face, he totally misses the spot.

Crowley bites back a laugh. "No, uh," he points again, "it's right - " Aziraphale tries again, but to no prevail. Crowley laughs, low and deep. "Just - just let me," he says as he reaches over, gently pressing his thumb to the side of Aziraphale's mouth.

He's not an idiot; he feels the way Aziraphale tenses under his touch.

"Azira," he says, slowly wiping the sauce away. "What's been going on with you?" His hand lingers. Aziraphale's skin is so warm and soft. "Did I do something?"

Aziraphale gulps. Crowley can feel that, too. "No, I - it's stupid," he whispers.

His hand still lingers. "You know you can tell me anything, right? I mean, I know we haven't known each other that long, but." He smiles, almost shy. "I really do trust - "

Aziraphale knows he probably shouldn't, but for once he wants to be a stupid teenager and just... live in the moment. Lunging forward, he grabs the other boy by the face and plants a big, messy kiss on his lips.

This is definitely _not_ what Anathema had meant when she suggested they talk.

_Oops._

Crowley slowly pulls back. "Azira?" he asks, oddly quiet. His eyes are wide, searching.

Aziraphale wishes, suddenly, he could melt into the carpet. "I - " he gulps. "I'm sorry," he says, flushing. "I shouldn't have - have done that without - without asking, but, um." He sniffs. "Yeah."

"You... is this why you've been acting so weird around me?" he asks.

Aziraphale looks around the room. He's not searching for anything, of course, he's just too scared to look at Crowley's face. "I - I'm sorry. It's not... I just. I didn't want _this_."

He didn't want to fall for Crowley, because he didn't want to risk their friendship. He loved it - _Crowley_ \- too much.

Finally, he looks at the other boy and he immediately knows he's said something wrong; he doesn't look angry, just... _hurt_.

"You don't want, what?" Crowley asks, a bit harsh. "Someone like _me?_ " he extends his arms, smiling ruefully. "Trailer trash?"

Aziraphale blinks once, completely shocked, because, no, _no_ -

"Crowley," he says desperately, "that is so not what I meant."

But he's already standing up off the couch. He looks down at Aziraphale, frowning deeply. "I think it'd be best if you went home for the night," he says simply, turning away. He starts frantically collecting the pillows, like he needs the distraction.

Aziraphale sniffs. "Crowley," he says, barely a whisper. "I didn't mean - "

"Just _go_ ," he snaps.

He nods sadly and stands up. His bag is in Crowley's bedroom, but he decides he can get it later. It's nothing important. He lingers for just a moment, wringing his hands. "Can we please just talk?" he asks softly.

Crowley sighs heavily. He stops his frantic movements, shoulders slumping. "I - I don't know. Maybe, just not right now, okay?"

Aziraphale nods slowly. "Okay," he replies quietly. "I'll - I'll see you tomorrow?"

He doesn't get an answer. Sniffling, he turns away and walks to the door.

This is so not what Anathema - or he - wanted to come of this conversation.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only one more chapter after this... so sad

"How could you do that!" Anathema exclaims, leaning across the table to (gently) smack the top of Aziraphale's head, a disapproving look on her face. It's not a question.

He frowns, looking impossibly small as he sits there, shoulders hunched, hands folded together in his lap. "I - I didn't mean to," he mutters quietly. "It was just... in the moment, and he misunderstood, and then he was so angry and I - "

"Well, explain yourself properly, then," she retorts firmly.

Aziraphale glances up at her. "I - I want to," he agrees, nodding curtly, "but I'm scared."

She tilts her head, narrowing her eyes. "Why?"

"I'm afraid if - if I say the wrong thing again, he might - what if I lose him for good?" he asks, barely a whisper.

Newton finally intervenes. "That won't happen," he says, looking oddly confident. "Crowley is not that type of person. As long as..." he barely glances at Anathema, looking a little guilty. He clears his throat. "As long as you put in the effort to fix things, he will, too. So don't worry so much."

Anathema thankfully doesn't say anything, just picks at her food.

"But he didn't come to sit with us today," he replies, glancing around the cafeteria with desperate, searching eyes. "That must mean he's really mad, right?"

Anathema gently kicks his leg. "Go to his place after school," she instructs gently.

Newton nods. "Take cookies," he says. "Crowley really likes cookies," he explains.

"I - " Aziraphale laughs softly. "Thank you guys," he says genuinely. "I'll let you know what happens, okay?"

Anathema sniffs. "You better."

++

Aziraphale lingers on the porch of Crowley's trailer, wringing his hands. It's silent, and he's just about turn and walk away when the door opens. Crowley stares at him for a long, quiet moment. "Come in," he says.

He nods curtly and follows him into the living room. He doesn't feel comfortable sitting on the couch, so he stands.

"I - "

"I - "

Aziraphale blushes, gesturing wildly. "You first."

Crowley smiles lightly. "I'm sorry for snapping at you," he says.

"Oh." Aziraphale shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "It's okay. I - I think you misunderstood me." He smiles sheepishly. "I brought cookies?"

Crowley walks over to the couch and sits down, patting the cushion to his left. Aziraphale relaxes and joins him. Crowley doesn't say anything so... Aziraphale assumes he's waiting for him. He clears his throat.

"I didn't want to - uh - " he pats his thighs " - fall for you." He glances at Crowley, but he looks calm. "But not because of... _this_." He gestures around weakly. "But because I really like you, Crowley, and if - if we do this, we have no way of knowing if it'll last. Or if it'll - it'll ruin everything." He takes a deep breath and nods. "So yeah."

Crowley scoots closer, their thighs pressing together. "That's part of life," he mutters. "We can't predict the future, Azira."

"I know," he replies softly.

Crowley leans forward to get a good look at the other boy. "But do you think the risk is worth it?" he asks.

Aziraphale stares back at him, heart fluttering. "I - I do," he decides. He swallows. "Do _you?_ "

"Can I show you my answer?" he replies, a grin blossoming across his face.

Aziraphale bites his bottom lip. He doesn't trust his mouth to work properly, so he just nods mutely. Crowley grins wider and leans up, pressing their lips together. It's a soft, pure kiss and it's the best thing Aziraphale has ever experienced; he decides right then and there he never wants to stop kissing Crowley.

++

"I never thought I'd have this," Crowley says, barely a whisper. It's the same night; they're sitting on the couch with a movie playing softly. Neither of them are really watching it.

Aziraphale shifts, looking up at him. "Why?" he asks, and it's a genuine question because he simply can't comprehend it. Crowley is amazing - beautiful, for one, but also surprisingly sweet. Once you wiggled your way under all those layers.

Crowley looks almost shy. "I just - I didn't think it would happen."

"Well," Aziraphale cups the other boy's face and leans forward, pressing their foreheads together. "It has, and I know you can be a little... _rough_ around the edges, and I know it won't always be easy." Aziraphale smiles softly. "But I _really_ like you, Crowley.

Crowley laughs, sudden and sharp. His face is warm under Aziraphale's hands. "I should - I should - get more popcorn."

There's still plenty of popcorn in the bowl, but he smiles and releases his face anyway. "Okay," he agrees softly.

++

"You two are disgusting," Anathema comments blandly.

Crowley pulls away from Aziraphales side and laughs airily. The other boy is blushing brightly. " _Oh?_ "

Anathema narrows her eyes. "Can't you two keep your hands off each other for at least five minutes?"

"Oh," he repeats, wrapping an arm around Aziraphale's shoulders and pulling him closer. "We _could_ , but why would we want to?"

Anathema tosses a chip at him. "Azira, control your boyfriend now or face the consequences."

Aziraphale blushes deeper, all the way down to his chest. "Bo - boyfriend?" he squeaks. Obviously, they're boyfriends but they never really discussed labels and actually _hearing_ it is kind of overwhelming but in a good way.

"Boyfriend," Crowley singsongs, grinning wildly. "Partner, _lover_ ," he continues, lowering his voice. "I'm fine with whatever."

Anathema groans. "Jesus fucking Christ."

++

"I've never had a boyfriend before," Aziraphale squints at his hands. "What if I fuck up and - and Crowley realizes he can do better?"

Anathema nudges him with her foot. "Truly, I do not think you could do a single thing that would make him break up with you." She rolls her eyes, mostly fondly. "It's almost concerning."

"You sound jealous," Newton teases from the floor, looking up at the pair.

She glares at him and he squeaks, looking away.

"Bu - but what if he wants to, like..." Aziraphale gestures vaguely.

Anathema blinks once. "Oh," she exclaims eventually. Reaching over, she pats his shoulder. "I'm sure you'll be fine."

"Enthusiasm can make up for lack of experience," Newton comments, unhelpfully.

Aziraphale smiles anyway. He feels like the luckiest guy in the world and he can only hope Crowley feels the same way.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is it! i hope u enjoyed my lil story <3

Aziraphale is nervous, but... excited, yeah, excited for the night. He sits on the edge of Crowley's bed, listening as the other boy talks to the delivery driver. When he returns, he's grinning wildly.

"Who's hungry?" he asks, dropping down on the bed beside Aziraphale, eyes sparkling.

He opens the box and takes a piece of pizza, eating slowly. "You always get my favorite," he comments, biting his lip.

Crowley looks up at him, swallowing. "Duh," he replies, nudging him with his elbow. "I'm your boyfriend."

Aziraphale still wasn't used to the word boyfriend being used so casually about him - about _them_. It was exhilarating. He smiles softly and takes another bite. "You, uh," he clears his throat. "You mentioned your dad wasn't gonna be here tonight?"

"Oh." Crowley hums. "Yeah, he just got paid, so. He's probably gonna spend the night off getting high somewhere."

Aziraphale frowns and touches his arm lightly. "Crowley, we can talk about it if - "

"No," Crowley answers quickly, sitting up. He presses against Aziraphale's side with a sigh. "I just wanna spend time with you."

Aziraphale smiles, just a bit shy. "Good," he says, kissing his cheek. Because that was what he was hoping for, anyway.

++

They'd shared Crowley's bed a few times, but they'd never done anything more than kissing, which. If that's all Crowley ever wanted to do, Aziraphale wouldn't mind. But... he wanted to find out first.

Curling up under the covers, Aziraphale watches as Crowley turns off his lamp and joins him, sighing happily.

"Can I confess something?" Aziraphale asks, pressing up against Crowley's side. He rests his head on his chest. He doesn't wait for a reply. "Since we've gotten together, I hate sleeping alone," he mutters.

Laughing softly, Crowley wraps his arms around him and pulls him closer. "Yeah?" he asks, barely a whisper. "Me too."

Aziraphale chews on his bottom lip. "Hey, Crowley," he asks, looking up at him.

Crowley stares down at him, smiling softly. "Yeah?"

"I really, _really_ like kissing you," he says.

Crowley blinks once. Then, he laughs wholeheartedly and leans down, pressing their foreheads together. "Me too," he says.

"Yeah?" Aziraphale asks, feeling a little more confident. He pecks him on the lips. "What if - what if I said wanted to do... _more?_ " he asks quietly, staring up into his eyes.

Crowley swallows loudly. "Oh."

Aziraphale cups his face. "We don't have to," he assures him. "I just - I thought - "

"Shh," he shushes him. "I want that, Aziraphale. Like a lot. I'm just... nervous." Leaning down, he rubs their noses together. It's so ridiculously cute and intimate Aziraphale almost laughs. "I want it to be good for you. It's - " he reaches down and squeezes his sides " - it's your first, right?"

Aziraphale nods. "I know it'll be good, though, because it's _you_ ," he mutters, blushing lightly.

"Okay," Crowley laughs, a bit sharp. "Okay," he repeats, pressing their lips together softly.

++

"Why are you making that face?" Anathema asks, squinting.

Aziraphale blinks. "Um. What face?" he asks nervously. He glances at Crowley; how was he was so... _calm?_

She gasps. "You two had sex," she says, almost accusingly.

He blushes, red as a beet. "I - don't announce it to the whole school, Anathema!" he exclaims, glancing around. Thankfully, no one is looking in their direction.

Anathema glares at Crowley. "You better have made it good for him," she says, sniffing.

Aziraphale gestures wildly. "Anathema!" he repeats, louder.

"Oh, how dare you doubt my talents," Crowley sighs, wrapping an arm around Aziraphale's shoulder. "He _loved_ it."

Aziraphale quickly whips his head around and gapes at Crowley. "Crowley," he whines. "Not you, too." He turns toward Newton, eyes wide and begging. "Help me out here, Newton. Please?"

Newton stares at him for a long moment, chewing slowly. "You - " he gestures at his neck " - you might wanna cover that up."

"Wh - " Aziraphale touches his neck, flushing. When he looks at Crowley, he's grinning like a shark, which is appropriate given the teeth marks still visible in the soft flesh of Aziraphale's neck. Crowley was _definitely_ a biter. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Crowley leans forward and kisses him. "I'm sorry," he says. "I just thought the idea of people knowing you were taken was kind of..." he lowers his voice, " _hot_."

Anathema glares pointedly at Crowley. "We can still hear you."

"Hmm," Crowley sighs wistfully, "the sweet sound of jealously early in the morning."

Aziraphale stifles a laugh. Anathema gasps. "You're a traitor," she says, pouting.

He grins sheepishly. "Come on," he says, feeling warm and giddy. "I love you both."

Anathema narrows her eyes. "Fine," she says, "but I want both of your chips today."

Aziraphale laughs lightly and hands her his bag of chips. Then, he glances up at Crowley. "Hey - " but pauses when he sees the weird, tense expression on his face. "Crowley, are you okay?"

He blinks. "Uh," he laughs awkwardly and grabs his bag, tossing them to Anathema. "Just, um. Tired."

"That's from all the fucking you two were doing last night," she replies, shaking her head disapprovingly.

Aziraphale rolls his eyes and stands up, taking Crowley's hand. "Come here." He leads them over to an empty spot in the cafeteria. Crowley still looks... tense, just a little. "What's going on?"

He takes a deep breath. "You said - in a very roundabout, indirect way - that you loved me," he blurts.

Aziraphale takes a moment to understand. "Oh," he laughs, biting his lip. "I guess I did."

"I'm sorry," he replies quickly. "I know it was just a, like, jokey thing. I just - " Crowley cuts himself off. "It just made me weirdly happy." He shrugs. "I've never really had... _good_ experiences with love. Of any kind."

Aziraphale smiles sadly and takes his hands, squeezing. "I think," he starts slowly, "we need to take a little more time before jumping into anything like _love_ , but." Leaning up, he kisses him softly. "We're definitely moving in the right direction."

Crowley smiles against his lips. "Yeah," he whispers. "We are."


End file.
